To Woo a Datsun
by Oni Mathier
Summary: Sometimes it takes a miracle to get what you want. If all else fails, you should just quit while you're behind.
1. A Prelude and Jazz Plots

**To Woo a Datsun**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, but if Hasbro is looking to give them away…^_^

_Woo_ [wu] – verb (used with object) – To seek the favor, affection, or love of…

It was a well-known and accepted fact throughout the Ark that one Jazz—Saboteur Supreme, Head of Special Ops, Third-in-Command of the Autobots and in short, _One,_ _Sweet-Aft Mech_—was hopelessly, irrevocably and unequivocally infatuated with one _Prowl_.

Now, many might ask themselves why this mech in particular would attract the interest of such a gregarious and attractive bot. Perhaps it was the tactician's calm and soothing demeanor. Or, maybe it was something simpler, such as his simple, yet elegant features and that subtle, yet alluring black and white paint job. And of course, there were those hypnotic doorwings that everyone seemed to fixate on so…

Smokescreen did, in fact, have a rather sizable (and profitable) betting pool going specifically on this subject matter, but the truth was that no one had ever just asked Jazz. The visored mech's answer would have been fairly straight-forward too, because somewhere between Cybertron and Earth, he had just fallen for the indomitable enforcer.

Stemming from Jazz's apparent lack of tact, or perhaps it was just his lack of self-preservation instincts, the stylish black and white took to flirting with Prowl at any opportunity that he had outside of a strictly business setting. As he was so transparent about his intentions and the SIC had yet to give any inclination either way as to how he felt about Jazz's intentions, jaws started wagging and Prowl's reputation simply lent itself to their gossip.

How anyone could miss (or for that matter ignore) the handsome and lyrical ops mech was beyond them. Either Prowl truly had been created without proper emotional subroutines, as many had guessed, or he was the most completely oblivious mech in Cybertron's history.

Either way, Jazz was not ready to give up hope yet…and Smokescreen's betting pools only grew.


	2. Attempt 1, Words Make the Mech

**To Woo a Datsun**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything to do with them.

Thanks for rubbing it in.

_Attempt #1 – Words Make the Mech…unless another mech makes said words trivial. _

Words had always been a strong point for the saboteur. With the smooth and liquid quality of his voice and his ability to think on his pedes, Jazz had the natural charisma to charm femmes and mechs alike and he knew it. This he had used entirely to his advantage over his lifetime, as just another weapon in his extensive arsenal for both courting and espionage. One might say he was a "pro" at it as well.

Prowl was definitely no slouch when it came to wordplay either. Although things of a sensual nature were a big unknown for him (apparently), he really could be quite witty and charming in his responses. Thus, the hapless second unknowingly opened the door for Jazz's advances.

He tried casual wordplay at first—cleverly wrapping innuendos with standard conversational statements when addressing the object of his desire—in an attempt to get a telling reaction out of the logic bot. Jazz watched with rapt interest as he fed one of his many patented, never-fail one-liners to Prowl, only for the mech to respond by delicately raising an optic ridge in confusion before directing their conversation towards something less convoluted and more "logical." It only took a grand total of two more times of this happening for Jazz to decide that a change of tactics was in order. He could be called many things, but never 'dull' or 'dim.'

Even after giving up on seducing the stoic tactician by words, Jazz came to realize how much he truly enjoyed the dry humor that was almost a constant repertoire between them. Something that ironically (and sadly to the rest of the Ark crew) only increased the tactician's overall appeal to Jazz. Hound and Mirage had outright called him 'insane' after they overheard Jazz intentionally baiting Prowl into a light-sparked argument over the intrinsic value of aluminum foil to humanity.

Regardless, with that route 'foiled,' Jazz decided to try something more in Prowl's comfort zone.


	3. Attempt 2, Check and Mate

**To Woo a Datsun**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and they should probably be thankful for that.

_A/N – Thanks to everyone who did an alert and/or fave. It really made me one smiley person today. Super thanks to Jzeylyn, Peacewish, DitzyMusicLover, Jessie07, Saberfrost, and Marinelife37 for your reviews. Hopefully this chapter is a wee bit longer and still enjoyable. :D _

_**Attempt 2 – Check and Mate…or is that just check, please?**_

"Hey, Prowler," Jazz called, sauntering into Prowl's office. A Cheerful grin was already firmly planted on his faceplates.

"Hello, Jazz." The other black and white did not bat a door wing at the other mech's intrusion. More than used to his subordinate's disregard for such things as protocol and rank. "What is it that you need of me?"

Thankfully Prowl was still engrossed in his datapad, or Jazz's rather deviant smirk in response to his question would have had him on the furthest side of the room from Jazz—preferably by the door.

Jazz hummed slightly before answering, "Oh, nothin' much. I was just wonderin' if ya were busy after ya shift tonight."

The tactician paused momentarily in his work to level an assessing gaze at the saboteur. "I was planning to retire to my room at the completion of my shift." His expression shifted from its usual casual aloofness to allow a small frown. "Why? What are you plotting to do tonight?"

Jazz's servos immediately shot up, "Hold up, my mech. I was just hopin' that ya would be up for a round o' two of tech chess. I haven't had the chance to play in a while." He tried to give the now thoroughly frowning mech across the desk from him his most innocent and hopeful look.

Prowl sighed once before quirking a small smile, "I assume that you will not leave me alone until I agree, will you?"

"Yup." The visored mech confirmed unabashedly.

The other black and white's faceplates took on a look of contemplation – absently tapping the end of his stylus against a pale lower lip component. Jazz thanked Primus that he wore a visor because his optics were now firmly riveted to the oblivious second's tempting mouth.

"Why not? It has been some time since I have been able to play and you may just prove to be a worthy opponent." Even though this was said as dryly as ever, Jazz thought he detected a slightly playful twitch to Prowl's mouth that could have been an aborted smile. Ah well. The world will never know.

A full grin broke across Jazz's face at his reponse, "Now that sounds like a challenge, mech." At that he winked his visor and chuckled when Prowl merely sighed again and rolled his optics skyward.

"Primus help me, what have I agreed to?" Prowl muttered lowly before turning back to his work.

Jazz took that as his cue to exit, stage left.

---- : | ----

The evening went very well by Jazz's estimation. Prowl had met him after shift at his room where the chess set was already set up and waiting, along with a couple of cubes of mid grade. The atmosphere had been slightly awkward initially, but by halfway through their first game the usual banter between the two mechs filled Jazz's quarters pleasantly. The visored mech was more than able to give Prowl that challenge that had been alluded to as his strategy was based upon sidestepping the usual course of action (what the tactician would logically take and assume). The end result was still as expected – Prowl whomped Jazz, but he seemed to have a good time doing so.

As Jazz went through the process of resetting the board for their next game he casually asked, "So Prowler, what exactly does a mech like ya do outside o' work?"

"Besides reading or giving in to one of your whims, you mean?" Prowl inclined his head towards Jazz, expression as bland as ever.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that. Don't you ever, ya know…spend time with any of the other mechs here?" He hedged.

Prowl gave a small, rueful smile and Jazz felt his spark pulse skip a beat, "Yes, of course. Bluestreak comes by often to speak about his day and Ironhide and I speak of battle strategies in the mess hall at times..." The chevroned mech trailed off and looked toward Jazz expectantly.

"That's it, though? No, uhm, "relations" on the side or anythin'?" The saboteur stumbled slightly over the phrasing of his question, wondering if he had just been a tad too blunt.

Prowl's optics flashed brightly before narrowing skeptically at the now sheepish-looking mech across from him, "Jazz, I do not believe that -"

_Bluestreak to Prowl!_

Prowl put a servo up to his fellow black and white while pressing his other servo to his audio. _Prowl here. What do you need, Bluestreak?_

There was a pause before Bluestreak's voice frantically burst through Prowl's comline, loud enough for Jazz to hear.

_It's the twins. I know you are off shift and you are probably getting ready to recharge and I am sorry to bother you, but I thought you would want to know because I think they are up to no good, at least Sideswipe seemed really happy and was sneaking around and-_

_Bluestreak._ Prowl interrupted calmly, with practiced ease. _Where are the twins currently?_

On the other end of the comline, Bluestreak audibly inhaled before speaking_ It looked like they were heading towards the Security Room and I don't think Red Alert is expecting them and like I said, Sideswipe seemed awfully pleased with himself, which is never a good thing-_

_Very well, Bluestreak. _Prowl said, cutting off Bluestreak's next monologue. _Please inform Red Alert what the twins are up to and I will meet you at the Security Room. Prowl out._

The connection cut off after a quick confirmation from the gunner and Prowl was already pushing back from the smaller table with an apologetic look towards Jazz.

"I apologize, Jazz, but it appears that there is a situation that needs my attention. Another time, perhaps?"

He offered in his usual cool, low voice, although the saboteur detected a hint of something in his tone. Disappointment?

"Of course, Prowler. Don't worry 'bout me. We can pick this up later, mech." Jazz tried in earnest to assure the object of his affection that no, he did not mind him picking up and leaving in the middle of their quasi (but mostly unbeknown to Prowl) date. He must have done a good job with his acting because Prowl seemed to relax and gave one last nod before vacating his room and hurrying down the hall to Red Alert's domain.

Once his door had slid shut behind the tactician's retreating form (and delicious aft), Jazz slumped lowly in his seat. Things had been going so well, too! With a frame-deep sigh, he slid the game board and its pieces a safe distance away from him…and proceeded to bang his helm against the table.

Repeatedly.

It wouldn't do for him to mess up their game, after all.


	4. Attempt 3, The Road Less Traveled

**To Woo a Datsun**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. There. I said it. So don't try to sue me.

_A/N - Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback and your reactions. Hopefully you will enjoy the next part. :)_

_Attempt 3 – The Road Less Traveled…and there's a reason for that!_

With the 'safer' options in the slag heap, Jazz had no choice, but to up the ante on his arsenal.

"Come on, Sunny. You haven't got much else goin' on today AND you owe me for that little stint you and Sides tried to pull yesterday. Ya know?"

The strangest site greeted any of the Ark's inhabitants who happened to be wandering the halls outside the rank and file barracks in the early hours of the day. Jazz—Third in Command of the Autobots and Head of Special Ops—was whining. And not just at any mech. The black and white was whining at the notorious king (or "queen" if you listened to Sideswipe and didn't value your chassis) of whining in the Ark—the beautiful and dangerous frontliner, Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker, for his part, was not impressed by the officer's attempts to win his favor.

"Why does that mean I have to switch you patrols, Jazz? And my name is 'Sunstreaker'." He growled the last part and his optics took on a particularly unpleasant glint.

Jazz backed off slightly and placated, "Sunstreaker. Sorry, ma mech. I really need to take your patrol today, but I tell ya what - you can have your choice from any of my patrol shifts for the rest of the week. No complaints."

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed, their color already a lighter tint of blue reflecting his agitated state, "Yeah, but why my shift? There isn't anything exactly spectacular about it."

Jazz exhaled a bit from his vents before starting again. "Look _Sunstreaker_, I need to take your shift, okay? Just this one time - I'll even throw in a get out of the brig free card." Jazz was pretty sure that he was grinding his denta in frustration by now. Sunstreaker was really making this more difficult than it needed to be. He was also being a complete aft – something the yellow mech was quite good at being with everyone else, but typically was not toward him.

Sunstreaker stopped suddenly, smirking, "If you wanted to patrol with Prowl so much, you should have just said so." The black and white's jaw dropped like a trap door while the frontliner crossed his arms over his chest in victory. Jazz quickly tried to put an end to the shiny, yellow Lamborghini's thinking.

"I dunno what you are gettin' at Sunny. I just have a few things to go over with Prowl. Ya' know? Patrol assignments and such?" The saboteur tried for his most serious expression and threw in his 'officer' stance for good measure.

Sunstreaker merely barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Whatever, Jazz. Take my shift. Just make sure whatever you are going to do works within the next decacycle. I have credits riding on you two hooking up by then." As the shorter mech was once again struck speechless, Sunstreaker merely shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and walked passed the unmoving saboteur. "Be sure to fry his logic circuits a bit too, while you are at it!" He threw over his shoulder as a parting gift, along with a wave of his servo.

Jazz slowly unfroze, shaking his helm once before heading in the opposite direction of the snarky (and far too knowing) frontliner.

---- : | ----

To say that Prowl was unsurprised that his patrol partner was not on time would be a far stretch. He was entirely too used to the lackaday attitude of the twins to let their behavior ruffle his proverbial feathers too much. To say that the tactician was surprised to see Jazz approaching him from the Ark's entrance, wide smile and confident swagger in tow…might be an accurate statement.

Or perhaps even an understatement.

Preparing for the bad news (such as Sunstreaker being in the brig for his usual aggravated assault), Prowl merely took a nice deep, calming breath and faced the saboteur fully.

"Jazz."

"Prowl."

"I do not suppose that you know where Sunstreaker is at the moment?"

"Well, I don't know where he is, but ya don't need to worry about him."

Prowl's optic ridge twitched...ever so slightly. "And why is that, Jazz?"

"I'm covering this shift for him." At the tactician's dubious look, the saboteur felt the need to elaborate. "I owed him one and my evening is free, so…here we are." It was mostly the truth, anyways.

Prowl merely gave him the look of one resigned to some horrid fate before nodding in acquiescence. Without another word, he transformed into his alternative mode and turned toward the road, engine idling.

Jazz pouted slightly at that. It wasn't as if he was an unpleasant guy to be around – especially compared to having a patrol shift with Sunstreaker. No need for the police car to act all put-out by his sudden appearance. Shaking his head once to clear his processors, Jazz's optic band took on a glint of determination before he transformed as well, speeding past the waiting Datsun.

The Porsche laughed lightly at the indignant "Hey!" from his fellow black and white, fishtailing as he slowed down and coincidently shaking the aft of his alt mode, as Prowl caught up to him.

"It is always extremes with you, isn't it, Jazz?" Prowl commented casually about 20 or so minutes later as they drove peacefully alongside each other on the empty highway. The sun had not set yet, but was playing along the horizon. Its reds and golds reflecting on the mostly white chassis of the tactician, dancing like flames. Jazz couldn't help, but think it was a sight that he was not going to be forgetting anytime soon.

He chuckled and, feeling adventurous, nudged his bumper playfully into the Datsun's before replying, "Sometimes it's just easier to zag then zig, Prowler." He heard Prowl sigh at the infamously accursed nickname. He knew that if they had been in root mode, the SIC's optics would have been rolling in exasperation. But he didn't mind. Not one bit.

The whoosh and heat of a laser scoring across his spoiler, though, was a completely different matter. Both Autobots went wide to the side as another set of laser fire peppered the ground between them where they had previously been. Slamming on his brakes and hearing Prowl do the same, Jazz skid to a halt along the road and quickly reverted to root mode. Both bots held weapons aloft and waited for another strafing run from the seeker.

The black outline approaching quickly from the West resolved itself into three forms, as it grew closer.

"Starscream and his Trine. Damn." Jazz gritted out through his denta. He heard Prowl quickly radio the situation back to base as he looked around quickly for a more defensible position. With the steep wall of the canyon on one side and the scenic drop-off on the other, they were pretty much stuck out in the open.

"Incoming!" Prowl yelled before dodging to the inside this time, subsequently pushing Jazz out of the line of fire. He heard the ping ping of rounds hitting metal and saw Prowl wince slightly before straightening up. "We need to be careful, or they will bring the whole mountainside down upon us."

"So, what's the plan sarge?" Jazz asked the SIC as he let loose a quick volley at Thundercracker's belly as the jet passed low overhead. The sound wave that followed him had both Autobots clutching their audios and ducking down amongst the dust and debris.

"We need to find cover and hold them off long enough for Ironhide and his team to get here." Prowl yelled at his fellow black and white over the roar of jet engines. "ETA 15 minutes."

"Good thing we have so many options, eh?" He grinned lopsided at the mech in battle stance next to him.

"Indeed." The side of Prowl's mouth quirked into a small smile, their gazes locking for a moment. Jazz felt his spark pulse stop at the simple beauty of such an expression on the Datsun's face. It was simply mesmerizing to the third how the subtlest of the second's expressions could hold so much depth. At the same time it was frustrating as well since such outward emotions from Prowl were few and far between, leaving him waiting with baited breath for the next rare treat.

A rumbling sound reached his audio horns and Jazz knew that they had little time until the next attack.

And just like that, inspiration struck.

"Alrighty then. Might as well try taking out 'Screamer or one of his crew. Even up the odds a little." With that said, Jazz quickly sidestepped so that he was positioned directly in front of Prowl. The saboteur saw the tactician's mouth open, probably to question his thinking, but he did not give him the chance to ask. A quick reflexive command and both of his hip panels retracted and a pair of modified speakers popped out in sync.

"You may want to cover your audios for this, Prowler." He turned down the gain in his own audio horns and felt his faceplates stretch into a more feral grin of battle lust just before subsonic noise pounded in a rush of energy from his systems. Skywarp, who had just warped quite close to them for a more direct attack, received the brunt of the wave. The jet bucked and twisted before veering to the side with a cry of his own, nearly taking his wing off on a tree top.

"Ha!" Jazz felt energized at the victory and angled himself towards the next jet making its rounds.

It might have worked too, if Starscream hadn't decided to transform midflight, aiming a sizable-looking, non-standard missile at the two Autobots. Jazz felt Prowl grab his arm to pull him back and away, but it was already too late.

The last thing that the black and white saboteur experienced was the white streak of a missile impacting at his feet and a wash of heat and flame searing his chassis.

At least Prowl had been behind him.

---- : | ----

One would think that because of Jazz's courageous and completely selfless act, Prowl would finally come to realize how much he meant to the saboteur and (of course) in turn, how deeply in love Prowl was with the TIC. At least, that would have been the optimum and Jazz's preferred result from all of this mayhem. Particularly after said heroic act ended in him having to endure a night of Ratchet's 'tender' ministrations and the steady ache of a chassis rebuild he had had to recharge with. Slag, he would have been happy to just have awoken with Prowl seated in his vicinity, patiently waiting for him to online.

But what did he awaken to? No. Prowl.

Too much to ask the maker for apparently.

Jazz onlined to the garish orange ceiling of the medbay the next morning with nothing, but empty berths and the steady beep of equipment by his berth to keep him company. Primus, he would have been happy with a "Get Well Soon" card from the tactician duct-taped to his helm.

How could something so simple and straightforward go to the pit so quickly? Oh yeah – Decepticons. Fraggin stupid-aft bots with no respect for a saboteur's well-intended seduction attempts.

Reaching black fingertips under his visor, Jazz rubbed tiredly at his optics to try to relieve the pressure that he felt building behind them. It couldn't be a coincidence. This was twice that he had been thwarted in his attempts to confess his undying love to Prowl—not counting some of the minor, generic stuff that he tried early on in the wooing process.

There had to be some other road that he could take, but what?

With a grunt from the effort of heaving his achy and still slightly sedated body, Jazz shifted to make his escape from the medbay, only to inadvertently draw the attention of one lurking medic.

Frag.

Seriously. Did Primus hate him?


	5. Attempt 4, Let Music Be Fruit of My Love

**To Woo a Datsun**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, itty-bit of Blaster

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything to do with them. Thanks for rubbing it in. |:P

_A/N - Thanks to EVERYONE who did alerts and faves for this story. I'm really glad that you are enjoying it as much as I am while writing it. Thanks to DitzyMusicLover, phoebe turner, and Dragon Queen88 for your comments. Enjoy, All!! :)_

_**Attempt 4 – Let Music Be the Fruit of My Love…unless there is fire involved.**_

Up until this point, Jazz considered it _reasonable_ to say that things had not exactly gone to plan for the saboteur. They had, in fact, gone really rather horridly, but he wasn't one to focus on the negative. You can't get ahead when all you focus on is what is behind you. Or something like that.

Jazz shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. This is how it had been for him lately – wandering the halls when not on duty just contemplating what he should do concerning the ever allusive second-in-command. The visored mech truly was a brilliant thinker, but when he started over-thinking things became convoluted and he often found himself sidetracking far too easily.

That and he was really REALLY frustrated by the lack of progress that he had made with Prowl. The more subtle and minor attempts had been either brushed off as just his usual "quirky behavior" –The tactician's words, not his. Trying to get him alone nearly got both of them slagged. Discouragement was encapsulating Jazz and giving in seemed to be the most prudent and logical of choices. Then again, frag logic.

The sound of heavy pedes thundering down the hallway that he had unceremoniously commandeered for pacing interrupted his musings. A brilliantly colored mech skidded to a halt in front of him. Their faceplate as jubilant as ever.

"Hey there, Jazz-man. How's it hangin'?" Blaster asked with an impish grin.

"It's hangin', Blaster. About all it's good for right now." Jazz offered with a slight depreciating smile.

The orange and red mech nodded with a commiserating sound.

"Ah, well. At least I've got our concert tonight to clear me out of my funk for a few hours, eh?" The black and white commented brightly before noticing the Communication Officer's rather apologetic expression. Jazz's faceplates fell flat in response and he was pretty sure somewhere in the universe a kitten had succumb to some ridiculously tragic death.

"Ya can't go, can ya?" He asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"Sorry bro, no can go. I have to help Cosmos encode some new jive'n frequency he is set to be usin'. Last minute request and there's no backin' out for the Blaster." He frowned sorrowfully at his friend, watching the saboteur complete his deflate. Jazz's latest 'quest' had had the mech occupied off and on for the last vorn. He hadn't made it any secret what, or rather who, he was after, but that didn't seem to matter. Things hadn't gotten anywhere and they were taking their toll on the normally groovin' bot.

"Well hey, no fear, the tickets are still good. You should grab some other bot. I'm sure plenty will want to go."

Blaster watched as Jazz's visor band angled slightly in what he had learned over the vorns was intense contemplation before something seemed to click in his helm and suddenly the Jazz-man was back in the building. Smiling, the orange mech pulled the tickets from his subspace and handed them off to the waiting black hand. "Here you go - all ready and waiting for you."

He paused in his hand off at the look on Jazz's face, expression falling. "Oh no, bro. You aren't seriously thinkin' of askin' _him_, are you?"

Jazz's sheepish grin had Blaster smacking a servo to his forehead in hopelessness. So much for trying to steer his friend clear of disaster.

---- : | ----

A low knock on his door startled Prowl from the datapad that he had been absorbed in. Frowning to himself since very few visited him without a standing appointment, and fewer of those actually knocked, he turned towards the door and called "Enter."

A black helm with two stubby audio horns peeked around the edge of the now open door. "Hi, Prowler. Ya' busy?" The saboteur asked almost _carefully_? Oh no. That did not bode well for the enforcer.

"I am, but what can I help you with, Jazz?" The tactician managed to politely ask without showing a hint of his wariness. No need to jump to conclusions as to the reason of the visit. The Ark still appeared to be standing and there had been no reports of mischief the last orn.

"Nothin' much. I was just kind of wonderin' if you were busy t'night. There's a music festival playin' over in Lincoln City that I have a couple of tickets to." A small ray of hope shined in the saboteur's spark when Prowl didn't immediately reject his offer. In fact, the tactician leaned back from his desk and raised a hand to his chin in thought - apparently weighing the pros and cons of the saboteur's offer.

"What kind of music will there be at this…festival?" The doorwinged mech asked with some uncertainty, rolling the last word around as if discomforted by the term. Jazz fully stepped into the second's office now that he was sure he wasn't being flat out denied. Thus, also allowing the smooth metal of the door to final slide closed with a sharp clang.

"Well, there's this jazz-fusion ensemble that is going to be playing earlier in the evenin', but I was more lookin' forward to the Baroque Orchestra that was playin' later on. They're suppos'd to be one of the best in the world." He trailed off looking hopefully to the mech across from him. The saboteur did his best to put on his most endearing turbo puppy expression, although the visor kind of didn't help.

The SIC's eyes narrowed as he absorbed and reviewed the information. The mech seemed to be giving entirely more thought to the invitation then Jazz would have expected. Finally reaching judgment, Prowl lifted his helm and focused at the now fidgeting Jazz.

"Very well. What time should I plan to be ready?"

Jazz was pretty sure his jaw hinge would have come completely undone if it weren't already otherwise occupied, what with him smiling in joy. Finally relaxing for the first time that day, the saboteur laid out his plans for the evening while the tactician listened on, a very faint smile playing across his features

---- : | ----

Torches flickered brightly along the rolling coastal hillside, leading down to a sandy beach where a temporary open air auditorium stood. The evening was cool, but thankfully rain-free for the audience that was seated either along long benches, or on fold-out chairs. The pleasant strums of strings warming up for the concert lent to the light and relaxed atmosphere that wrapped around the socializing humans.

Further behind the small mass of people sat two black and white cars on the top of the hill side. The Datsun and Porsche made for a very interesting pair, but they only drew a few curious glances. That compared to the possibility of interrupting the entire event with their presence kept the two Autobots in their more inconspicuous alt modes.

The two spoke amiably about the orchestra and the selection of musical pieces. Jazz expanded on why he enjoyed this particular genre since Prowl had always (mistakenly) assumed that he preferred the more edgy, pop music that seemed to thrum near deafeningly in waves from his room.

The saboteur had to admit that he was greatly surprised at how easily Prowl had seemed to give into his invite. He had been prepared with at least three separate arguments as to why the tactician should go. The highlights being that the second needed to get out more, hey, the twins can't do much harm from the brig, and of course if all else failed, Jazz had been prepared to suck it up and beg the mech to go. All the way down to getting on his knees.

No one could ever say that he wasn't committed…or 'slightly committable' as some Autobots were starting to suspect.

"Ever been to one of these, Prowler?"

"Yes, actually."

Jazz's alt mode didn't lend itself well to facial expressions, but his stunned silence must have hinted something to the Datsun as he responded with a warm chuckle.

"I do occasionally get out of the Ark, Jazz. I simply do not choose to make a production out of it." The fact that the concert (singular) that he had attended had been a charity event put on by the Portland Police Department AND that he had been invited as the guest of honor as a thank you for his service did not need to be elaborated upon. He did, however, suspect that there were ulterior motives that the Chief had not mentioned. After all, having an Autobot in attendance at any event was practically a guaranteed way to ensure it was sold out. The quiet black and white did not complain, though. He truly did enjoy earth's classical style of music and he had only had to endure a brief Q&A session.

An immediate hush enveloped the audience as the composer made his way to the center of the orchestra. There was a brief pause of absolute silence and then they were falling over the precipice as the orchestra simply moved and the most beautiful notes played over the landscape. The soothing and wistful music reverberated through both black and whites' frames and Prowl could feel the normal tension he carried begin to release from his joints and lines.

Next to him, the sensors on his doors picked up a similar state of relaxation enveloping the saboteur. So much so it seemed that the space between their frames had almost completely diminished and the tactician could not help, but shiver at the Porsche's proximity. Jazz could be such an enigma to him at times. His mannerisms so different from his own, and yet here he was, having accepted the visored mech's offer of a completely non-work related activity. When he had agreed, a part of his processor had simply stopped at how easy it had been for him to do so.

They _were_ here, though, and what he was to make of it, Prowl still had not decided…yet.

Jazz, on the other hand, was fairly buzzing with happiness. The Datsun had not moved when he had decided to lean into him. This could be a good or bad thing, since there was no reaction to speak of, but the saboteur ever being the optimist was going for the former. The second rarely allowed bots into his personal space and for him to seemingly accept the Porsche's intrusion was an outright miracle.

Speaking of miracles, _"Primus. If ya're listening in, please don't let anythin' interrupt this."_ Jazz couldn't help, but pray silently. It never hurt to cover all of your bases.

As if in response to Jazz's prayer and _entirely_ too coincidentally, one of the halogen lights that was lighting the stage decided to explode, sending sparks flying. And they flew right onto the lovely red banner that was so dashingly draped along the stage's bottom.

Oh. Joy.

The reaction was thankfully instantaneous as musicians grabbed their instruments and scrambled to get off the stage. Not exactly an organized and efficient exit, but it was effective none the less.

"We've got to help 'em." Jazz called out, immediately transforming. Prowl was only one step behind him as they both broke out running towards the stage and the now growing flames.

---- : | ----

It was late into the night when two black and white cars made their way down the Ark's dirt road, stopping just slightly short of the entrance. Both transformed into their root modes, each mech looking simply exhausted. Black soot and ash was smudged liberally over the saboteur and tactician mixing in nicely with their mostly monotone paint jobs. The paint on Jazz's servos was blistered from tearing the banner off of the stage to try to stop the fire from spreading further. Prowl's left door wing was angled slightly askew from a random beam falling onto it.

They had been able to contain the fire and keep it from spreading across the countryside until the local authorities had arrived and that was something. The fire department had been beside themselves in gratitude to the two Autobots. Both mechs had been more than happy to have helped and were thankfully able to make their escape before the media vans arrived.

The saboteur was by far the worst off, but not from the accident. At least, not directly. Feeling his shoulders slump from the weight of the universe, Jazz had no option, but to admit that maybe something or someone was really trying to tell him something. The thought of giving up the chance to be with his 'Prowler' made his spark wrench, but after all that had happened it seemed unlikely that the tactician would be accepting any further invitations from him.

"This has been quite a night."

Listlessly, Jazz found himself agreeing to the quiet voice. The saboteur found his optics drifting on their own accord to his friend. Even covered in dust and ash and who knows what, he still looked as handsome and desirable as the first time the saboteur had seen him. He never would have thought that there would be any further draw to the tactician after their initial meeting, but little by little it crept over him until the Porsche had no choice, but to accept the new feelings.

"I am beginning to think that journeying outside of the Ark with you may be hazardous to one's health." Prowl stoically intoned.

"Mm-hmm. Seems that way." Even to his own audios, the saboteur new he sounded morose, but he didn't have the energy to try disguising it. Hoping that the other mech would merely attribute it to the interrupted show, he offered the tactician a wane smile.

"Well, g'night, Prowler. I'll catch you next duty cycle."

With that last statement, Jazz turned and made his miserable escape to the Ark - his hope being to make it to his room as quickly as possible without flat out running. There he could bury himself in sad love songs until his spark stopped aching so.

A soft, fond smile lit the Datsun's face as he took in the retreating form of the other mech. He could not help, but shake his helm in amusement. The day had been an adventure and their outing another disaster, but there was no way that he could hold it against his companion.

The Porsche had just made it to the where the metal of their base overlapped the surrounding rock when he heard his name. Stopping mid-step, he turned and directed a questioning, if not slightly apprehensive look at the one who had spoken.

With deliberate steps, the Datsun made his way to the Porsche, stopping just within his personal bubble of gloom. Not knowing what to expect, Jazz felt surprise when a smudged, white hand came up to cup the side of his helm tenderly. The same smile that the saboteur had missed earlier was playing across Prowl's face.

"How about the next date we go on, we just stay in?" The tactician murmured sincerely, thumb gently brushing against the sloping line of the saboteur's cheek.

If he had been organic, Jazz was sure his optics would have popped out from behind his visor. As it was, he was having a hard time not imitating a fish with his mouth open and forming a silent 'O'. Prowl chuckled warmly before taking full advantage of the other's speechlessness, pressing his lip plates to the saboteur's and leaving no space between them. The kiss was chaste and yet so very sweet, promising much more than Jazz comprehended and yet he couldn't help, but answer.

Breaking their lip lock carefully, Prowl pressed his forehead to Jazz's as the saboteur gave him such a hopeful smile.

"You do not need to try so hard for me. You already have my spark."

Maybe there was hope for them yet.

- Fine -


End file.
